


Saving Grace

by HalcyonStars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Coda, Demon Dean, Loss of Grace, M/M, Mark of Cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalcyonStars/pseuds/HalcyonStars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had gone off the rails. Sam and Castiel knew they had to cure him, and this was their last chance to do it. Castiel knew what it would cost him. He just didn't care. If it meant saving Dean, he was in.</p><p>Always for Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving Grace

 

“Cas are you sure about this? I mean, how do know it’ll work?”

 

“It’ll work Sam.”

 

“This could be our last chance, if we fail- ”

 

“Over there. That’s him.”

 

Sam sighed in resignation. “Okay then, let’s go.”

 

*******

Castiel pulls up his 78 Lincoln Continental outside of a Gas ‘n’ Sip off of Route 66. The hunter and the angel step out of the car, feet away from the demon wreaking havoc.

 

He stabs and slices, blade in hand, unrelenting and ruthless. He craves violence, _needs_ the rush he feels when he rips their souls from their bodies. The ground is littered with their remains, the stench of rotting corpses left decaying in the sun, of exposed organs where birds have begun to eat away at dead flesh. Its vile, it’s repulsive, and he relishes in it.

 

“Decide to show up did you?” The demon turns around, eyes a pool of black ink. His voice sounds so loud in the empty expanse of desert surrounding them. They must be the only ones for miles.

 

“Dean, we’re only here to help you.”

 

“Sammy look at you. Do me a favour and come over here, I need to give you a hair cut.”

 

“Dean, this isn’t a joke. You’ve gone off the rails, and I’m going to fix you.”

 

“Sammy, what’s to fix? I _like_ the disease. Ah- Don’t move any closer.” He ordered. Dean knew he could take Sam easily, but that didn’t mean he wanted to.

 

Choosing to ignore him, Sam cautiously approached the demon. He ever so slowly opens his fist, a gold glimmer catching light from the sun. His fingers uncurl, revealing in his palm the amulet he gifted Dean for Christmas as children. “You remember this Dean. I picked it up after you threw it out. You wanna know why? Because we’re brothers, no matter what, we’ll always be brothers, and that’s what this means to me. I’m going to save you, or I’m going to die trying.”

 

By the time he’d finished talking, he stood a foot from Dean. He searched the shorter man’s face, seeing the warm smile and vivid green eyes he was familiar with. Sam breathed a sigh of relief, his older brother lifting his hand to retrieve the heirloom. Before Sam had time to register what was happening next, Dean’s fist collided with his temple, his body falling to the floor in an unconscious heap.

 

“I told you not to move any closer.”

 

Glaring at the sleeping man on the ground, he turned to leave when he heard someone clearing their throat.

 

“Hey Cas. Almost forgot you were there. So what, you here to fix me like Sammy, or you wanna join in on the fun?” The demon turned to look at the angel, for the first time seeing beyond the vessel. He could see the faded essence of grace, light not as bright as it should be, weakly pulsating at its core. It’s obvious he doesn’t have long before it burns out and snuffs his life with it. It’s coming apart at the edges; it shows on the sunken eyes and paling skin on Castiel’s face.

 

“I will not entertain your horrid games creature, I am here to rid the demonic taint on your soul.”

 

“And what makes you think you can do that Angel?” It was _that_ smirk, worn on the human so playfully yet so sinister and evil painted on the face of a demon.

 

“I purified your soul when I dragged you from hell, I bare no doubts that I can do it again.”

 

Castiel swiftly surged forward, laying a palm to Dean’s shoulder.

 

_20 hours earlier_

“So get this, video footage was recovered of a black-eyed man who walked into a convenience store right off highway 12 North Carolina, completely trashes the place, beats up the clerk and sets it up in flames. Seven hours later police are called in after a hiker comes across a pile of dead bodies. I’m talking completely mutilated. Says he found them at... oh... Says he found the bodies at ‘The Devil’s Tramping Ground.’ Glad he still has his sense of humour.” Sam sighed as he ran his hand through his ragged hair. “The body count is getting way too high, the more people he kills, the more I worry that...”

 

“I know, Sam. We _will_ fix this. But I do have reservations. How will we be able to find him? In the time it takes us to pinpoint his location, he could have very well moved on. We’ve tried interrogating demons, they’re all too afraid to talk.”

 

“See this table here,” Sam pointed to the world map. “It lit up when the angels fell, showed us every point where one of them landed. Point is it can be used to track Angels. You had something similar set up at your base when you were trying to get to Metatron.” Castiel nodded. “Well, when I found out about Dean, I called Charlie, got her to calibrate it so that it could be used to track demons. That light you see there, I matched it up to all the reported incidents that we know for sure were Dean. Time and place fit in with the murders; that’s definitely him. We know how to get to him, we just need to figure out how to cure him.”

 

“Sam, may I propose something?” He took the silent nod as a sign to continue. “An angel’s grace is a type of divine energy; it’s pure, where a demon’s soul has been contaminated by the corruption of hell. I believe that if I can channel my grace into Dean’s soul, I can reverse the taint it holds and return it to its human state.”

 

“But your grace is fading as it is, this-“

 

“This would require all of it. I know Sam. This doesn’t affect my decision.” He stood from his chair, look of pure determination deep in his eyes. “When do we leave?”

 

 

_Now_

A flash of blinding white light emanated from Castiel’s hand and spread throughout Dean’s body. It was hot and burning, flooding his insides with a feeling of _good_ and _pure._ As each second passed he felt the darkness within slip away, malevolent urges fade until all that lasted was a sense of peace.

Castiel stood on shaky legs, looking into the brilliant green eyes he’d come to adore. Hesitantly he wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, relieved to feel two hands softy draw him in from the small of his back.

“Cas?” Dean sounded confused, moving to step away from the angel, only to have him fall to the ground before him.

“Shit Cas, are you okay?” he knelt down beside his body.

“It worked...” He sputtered. “My grace, it... saved you.”

“What did you– ... dammit Cas you son of a bitch, you knew this would happen. Why would you save me if it meant this?” he asked.

“Whats the mat- matter Dean?...” Cas stumbled on his words, gasping desperately for air. “You... don’t think you... deserve... to be... saved?” A tired smile graced his face as he repeated the words he’d said to Dean upon their first meeting. Dean’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he pulled Castiel’s pliant body onto his lap, cupping his face gently as he gazed at him. Castiel’s eyes began to flutter shut as he approached unconsciousness.

“No! You hear me Cas? Buddy, you keep your eyes open. You stay with me, ok?”

This couldn’t be it, after all they’d been through together, fighting heaven, hell and purgatory, it didn’t get to end this way.

“Cas, you idiot, why’d you do it?”

“Dean Winchester... after all... this time... do you still... not see it?” Cas let out a cough that sounded like death itself, as quavers rattled his body with violent shakes. Dean’s heart was pounding with fearful anticipation; terrified that time was running low. He held Castiel with both arms, his breath ghosting on his neck.

“Shhh. Easy Cas, easy.”

Dean looked down at the man he held in his arms. Of course he saw it, he felt the same way, he’d just always been too scared to do anything about it. Those fears were ingrained in him, residual thoughts attributed to a childhood raised by John Winchester. Real men chased skirt _,_ not dick.

But this was Cas. Cas who always came when he called, who went against his own _family_ for Dean, who was now dying, _again_ , for him.

Castiel’s breathing became sharp and shallow as his eyes hazed over, and in that moment they both knew he was nearing his final breaths. Dean’s tears no longer stayed unshed, falling from the wells of his eyes, into the crevice of his nose. He heaved the angel closer and cradled him against his chest, burying his nose into the soft locks of Castiel’s hair.

“Dean... Dean I’m so sc-scared.” Chapped lips quivered as the blue eyed man began to cry. Dean had never seen Castiel cry. He was an angel. Angel’s weren’t supposed to have emotions, and seeing him _feel_ broke Dean’s heart more than he could have imagined.

Dean would not let him spend his final moments in fear.

“Hey Cas, you remember... you remember when you told me about your heaven?” Dean asked with trembling lips. “Why don’t you tell me about it some more?”

“It was the... eternal Tuesday... afternoon, of an... autistic... man... who died in a bathtub... in 1953.”

“Yeah, yeah it was. And you told me how peaceful it was, how beautiful. So much green, you said you liked all the green.”

“Green is my... favourite colour. Just... like... your eyes.” Castiel’s hand came up to gently caress Dean’s cheek, brushing over his freckles with the kind of tenderness only lovers share.

“You said there were lots of flowers too, lots of different colours and smells, I think the word you used was ‘serene,’ and I remember thinking, only my dorky little angel could make that sound so normal.” Dean smiled, a bittersweet thing. “Well that perfect little place, when you get to heaven, that’s where you’re going Cas.”

“Oh. That... doesn’t seem so... so scary any- anymore.”

Dean sniffled and ran his hand through Castiel’s hair, soft despite the sheen of sweat coating his forehead. He was fighting to stay awake, to hold on to as much time as possible for Dean.

 _Always_ for Dean.

“Maybe... maybe... it will even... have... the bees.”

Dean laughed, offering a sad smile, a flood of tears running down his face. “Yeah Cas, that sounds nice. Maybe I’ll check it out for myself one day.”

Castiel smiled, small and feeble, briefly losing focus of Dean as his eyed drifted shut. They both knew the inevitable was coming, no matter how hard they both fought it, but Dean just wanted a little _more time._

“Don’t go.” he pleaded. “Not yet, Cas. Hold on for me, for just a few more minutes. _Please_.”

A tear ran from Castiel’s eye. “I’m so... tired, Dean.”

Dean gazed into Castiel’s azure eyes, his pink, chapped lips, light stubble that dusted his jaw; he truly was beautiful, it was a beauty Dean would always remember. For so long he’d denied himself of this, and by God did he regret it, but he wouldn’t do it anymore.

“Dean.” Castiel whimpered, so quite it was almost inaudible.

Gently, he cupped the back of his former-angels neck, leaned forward and brought them together in a chaste kiss. As Dean pressed his lips to Castiel’s, he didn’t think of how wonderful it was, or of how right it felt. All he could think of was how he didn’t feel Castiel kiss back.

Dean drew his head back to look at the brunette.

“...Cas?”

There was no reply, not even a whisper.

He kissed him again. Still he felt nothing.

“Come on Cas, all you got to do is kiss me back.”

A press of lips. Nothing. Tears.

“You mad at me or something for taking so long?” Dean joked, though his laughter held no humour.

Another kiss. Nothing.

Castiel didn’t move an inch.

He laid gentle kisses, one after another to lips, cheek, nose, jaw, eyelids, praying to a God he’d long since given up on that he’d bring him back one last time. But nothing happened.

A final merging of warm, wet lips, to cold, dry ones, and Dean drew his head back to look at the man that he loved.

No movement. Not a single sound. Alone, isolated in the barren land, Dean could only hear the sound of his own sobs.

 

“Cas please” he begged. “Please wake up” ...

 

 

“Don’t do this to me, don’t leave me again.”

 

 

“Please Cas, I’m begging you. I need you... I –”

 

 

“I love you...”

 

 

He’d finally said the words he’d wanted to say for years.  


If only Castiel was alive to hear them.

*******

_And so the Righteous man held in his arms the soulless body of the man whom he loved._

_Castiel fell from grace for his love for a human,_

_It only made sense that he died as one._


End file.
